


Listening

by orchidbreezefc



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mortality, Self-Image
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 17:24:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9833909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orchidbreezefc/pseuds/orchidbreezefc
Summary: Magnus gets in his head about the sacrifices he made in Wonderland. Maybe all he needs is a little perspective.





	

**Author's Note:**

> All I need is for the THB to talk to each other and figure out most of the stuff they're facing is the same stuff and they don't have to go it alone.
> 
> Set after the Suffering Game. Hopefully none of this shit ends up Jossed in the future. Oops.
> 
> Not enough Magnus/Taako to tag for but enough to give you a heads-up that you might see it, depending on how you feel about bros recognizing their bro is a total babe. Also maybe self-harm, depending on how you define it.

By the time you get back to base, with everything you've had to deal with, you've almost forgotten about the slight creak in your joints, the extra effort to get your muscles going, the little unbalance in your left side. The Bureau members remind you of them with their reactions of shock and horror, of course--you barely manage to look the Director in the eye. But the sacrifices are gone from your mind again by the time you get to your dorm, desperate for sleep and deeply reluctant to face anything at all, be it existential horror, trauma, or merely the next sunrise.

But you do get up the next day, because that's what you're supposed to do, get up the next day despite everything. You got up the day after you won a revolution and you get up the day after Wonderland. You tell yourself you'll get some fantasy Rice Krispies and if that's all you can do, you can always go back to bed afterwards.

Then you see yourself in the mirror.

You scare the shit out of yourself, actually. Your hand flies to your shoulder where Railsplitter usually sits, but of course it's not there, because you're in your room; if there had been a threat you would be directly between the knife under your pillow and your other weapons by the door. But there is no threat--just a mirror, and oh gods. Oh gods, that's _you_ reflected in it. You want to turn away, but you haven't had a chance to check out the damage yet, and after a scare like that you find yourself horribly transfixed when you approach.

It's not that you're unrecognizable or anything. You're still Magnus, and you still look like Magnus. Really the thing that startled you so much was the grey, colors showing up that were not part of the normal peripheral blur that you would see near a mirror.

So the hair is a good place to start. Grey sweeps through your sideburns in streaks and from your temples in broad stripes. Your hairline's higher than it used to be, revealing a bit more forehead, which has a spot or several that wasn't there before. The spots are scattered all over, really, and your skin's not as tight and smooth as before, even outside the wrinkles, which there are quite a few of. Crow's feet sit at the corners of your eyes; lines come down to frame the corners of your mouth; your skin folds just that much easier when you move your facial muscles experimentally. Your ears and nose have grown and almost remind you of Merle's.

You look at your hands, just to see how they have aged and if their skin is anything like that as well, but a sick swirl rushes through your stomach when you see on top of that change that your finger's gone. You have to catch yourself on your dresser, left hand slipping a bit before catching a grip, and breathe hard through your nose before you can open your eyes and force yourself to look again.

Your hands are darker now, and the skin isn't quite so supple anymore. It's spotty and papery, clinging to now-prominent veins in a thin little veil which hardly seems up to the task of keeping you all together. Your knuckles are more gnarled and knobbly; you think about old man Steven's hands.

You slept in your clothes, and really you should take them off for a full examination while you're at it--your muscles aren't as full, you know that much, and you suspect you have something of a paunch--but you find yourself too unsettled by what you've already seen. It would be too much. Instead you settle for giving yourself another once-over in the mirror. Ears, nose. Wrinkles, spots. Greys.

It's not so horrible, really, except in all the ways that it is.

You turn sharply away. You can't force yourself through this any more right now. You do have to change out of your clothes and take a shower, it's inevitable, but you do your best not to look too much so that you don't get caught up in it again.

You have your breakfast, then sit around the dorm listlessly. Knowing your roommates, they're unlikely to get up soon, certainly not the day after an adventure like that. So what now? Reading isn't really your thing, and you're not willing to test your hands' still-recalibrating motor skills with whittling just yet. You could go to bed again, but that's a little depressing. You decide to get off your ass and walk the base, maybe check in with Carey since you probably should do that regardless.

When you come back, Merle is awake. He says he hasn't seen Taako while you were gone, so he must not have left his room except, you hope, maybe to Blink and get food while you and Merle weren't looking. It's like that with Taako sometimes. You settle into lunch without him.

A meal with Merle could never be a hugely somber affair--the gods know you were able to crack jokes all through a fucking funeral--but you are quieter than usual. You watch Merle fumble with his depth perception as he eats, eventually figuring out that he can touch his spoon to his soup bowl to judge that way. He catches you looking and says, "Fucking sorry sight this is, eh?"

"You'll get there," is all you can think to say. "You have time to work it out." You don't even realize the words are coming from a bitter place until you taste them acrid on your tongue.

"Magnus," says Merle cautiously. His voice trails off in a way so you just know he's going to say something measured and insightful, and you can't face it.

You stand up so abruptly it makes your chair scrape across the floor and screech. Your hands are shaking. "I'm going to my room. Pocket workshop. Bed. Whatever." You leave your soup half-eaten at the table and don't look back to see Merle's reaction.

And well, there it is, you think as you sink to the floor just inside your door. The elephant in the room, or in your brain anyway. Time. You've suddenly got a lot less of it.

You don't know the human life expectancy in Faerûn off the top of your head, but now it's certainly a hell of a lot closer. Saying you've suddenly found yourself at the halfway mark of the possible span of your life is generous, because the gods know Magnus Burnsides isn't going to die of natural causes. Thirty-two years to date; half that, childhood. Almost another half of that, you learned from June, is just gone entirely, but when you try to reflect more on that, it's like trying to grasp a wet bar of soap that already has some speed behind it.

Which brings you to now: standing on the precipice of maybe thirty more years, if you are lucky in a way you have never been lucky before. Your body is going to start gradually falling apart on you very soon indeed, so if you're going to still be adventuring--and of course you will be--who knows how good you're going to be at keeping yourself alive in dangerous situations.

You've grappled all your life with the idea that you could be killed in action on any day of any adventure, and you like to think you've made peace with it. If you die saving someone, protecting any life that would have died without you, it will have been worth it. But now here you are at the realization that you only have twenty, thirty years maximum to continue those adventures and help those people, and that? That you have not made peace with at all.

 

Merle says nothing when you see him again, though you think he rather wants to. It's hard for him sometimes, you think, not knowing what to say, or knowing what to say and not feeling like he can take that role, be it advisory or fatherly or whatever it is, and say it. A part of you wonders what he would say, if it would help at all. Another part is glad he keeps his mouth shut.

Taako you don't see until the next day, and he looks even worse than you've been feeling. He doesn't pretend everything is fine like he sometimes does; he's mostly unresponsive and seems pretty well miserable. He's cast Disguise Person on himself to look like he did before, which is honestly kind of depressing because he's still in his nightgown and doesn't show the slightest intention of leaving your dorm.

Instead he slumps on the couch, breathtaking as ever, crossing his slippered feet and nursing a coffee. When you do get a word or two out of him it's usually just a vague sort of 'yeah'. It'd be easier if he were grouchy or something. Something that didn't sound so, well, _defeated_. It doesn't take him particularly long to find an excuse to slink back to bed for the day; you may have been lucky to see him at all.

You hadn't even thought about Taako during your melancholy yesterday, but taking your misery about your encroaching expiration date and dropping into the mix Taako, your still young, still rather good-looking elf friend, just fucks you up all over again. Here you are with maybe twenty or thirty years left and now you have Taako, who's easily got a couple of centuries before him. Centuries. You can't even imagine it.

You should feel jealous, but you don't. Maybe it's because you had always accepted the idea of dying early in battle; maybe it's because whenever you imagined death you always gave the most thought to the person or people you'd be dying for. Whatever the reason, you feel a sudden rush of fear and horror for Taako rather than yourself.

He's already lost enough. That's the thing that keeps going through your head. Taako's already lost enough. Not just in Wonderland. He's given up so much--he told you he found out the loss of his show wasn't his fault in the first place, so at some point he could have cleared his name. It would be everything he's ever wanted, and yet he's given that up time and again--for what? For you? For you and Merle and this damned miserable quest that's already taken so much from all three of you?

What does he see in you that's worth staying for? Does he even want to stay at all? There's a thought that stops you in your tracks. Maybe he's already regretting it. Maybe he's had enough time to think about it and now there he is: avoidant, flighty Taako, trapped by you, your humanity and your impending death. He's just setting himself up for the loss not too far down the road, he must know that already. You can't imagine how scared he must be.

You find yourself watching Taako when he does appear, which over the next couple days is gradually more frequent and for longer. As he starts looking less miserable and terrified of life in general, you wish, not for the first time, you had magic--specifically, so that you could see what's in his head.

What does he think about all this? How is he coping with the trauma and the reality of your sacrifices? What does he think of _you_? Taako's a very looks-oriented person, he might very well be disgusted by your new appearance. He's probably revolted that his friend has become _this_. You know logically that it's only forty, not too terribly old for a human, but thinking about it through your elf friend's eyes is almost too much to bear.

The fact is, you have less and less to offer him. A couple decades of meager companionship? And it's not as if you're the best company in the first place. Really, friendship would not be much of a favor at all from you, more a desperate bid to cling to him as you deteriorate.

You can't do that to him. It's not long before your mind is made up: the only thing that's fair to Taako is to be straight with him. You've got to tell him that he doesn't have to hang around with you after all the Relics are obtained, or even that long. He's his own person with the right to live his own life, and you would never hold him back from anything he wants to do. He should feel no obligation to you, none at all. You care too much about him to let him be miserable on your behalf.

You pick out the words, reluctant as they are to be found, and rehearse them in your head over and over. You long to give him a speech, tell him how much he means to you just so that he _knows_ , no matter what he decides in the end. But you can't guilt him like that, and anyway he's Taako; he'd flee at the first sign of tenderness. You'll just have to leave your own affection for him out of it, for his sake.

And so you go about your life at the Bureau, completely consumed with fear and doubt. You watch Taako joke with Killian, annoy Johann, and reassure Angus that he's doing fine (you wonder if he really is). As horrible as it may be, seeing Taako recover and get on with his life hurts terribly, because it might soon be a life without you.

What will you do if he leaves? What will you do if he _stays_? You don't know which is a worse prospect--life without one of your best friends would be like life without a body part, and of course now you know just how unexpected and jarring a loss that is. You can't imagine the world without Taako at your side to flip it off.

But then you would have to bear the idea of dragging him down for twenty or thirty depressing years of his youth that he's not going to get back. Up until now you've been equals, but you will rapidly become nothing but a burden, both in the larger sense of the loss he's going to suffer and in daily life. You flinch as you envision Taako helping you get around or worse, taking hits you're too slow to block.

You get the words as right as they're ever going to be, but still you hesitate. It's been days now and you've been full of turmoil most of that time. You can't keep stalling, but you don't know how you're ever going to say it. Only one way to do it, you suppose: rush in.

That's exactly what you plan to do once you get him alone. Merle's out on one of those secretive solo missions of his--well, no, it's not so secretive anymore, you suppose; he's off to see his kids. Which, Merle being a father is still a weird fucking concept that you suspect would just trigger another crisis over your ticking biological clock if you really managed to get your head around it, so you're not going to think about it now. You've got your own mission, after all.

Taako's restocking and reorganizing the pantry when you get up the nerve to approach. You think about how he still hasn't ever let you taste his food, for reasons you've had to piece together mostly by yourself. You wonder if he would have come around eventually. "Taako?"

Taako turns to look at you over his shoulder. You're partway through memorizing his face, real or not, just in case it's the last time you ever get a really good look at it so calm and pleasant like this, just in case it goes sour or bad--

When he _wolf-whistles_. At you. You look behind yourself, actually, just to make sure, but of course it's just the two of you in your kitchen. So yes: Taako definitely just gave you a full-on 'ten out of ten, would tap that' honest-to-gods _wolf_ -whistle.

What the _fuck _?__

"Uh... what was that?"

Taako shrugs easily, putting the garlic salt back where it belongs because the gods know Merle keeps it out to use on everything he touches. "Nothin', bud. You just catch me looking all intense like that, with the silver fox thing going on, and it's like, damn." Taako shakes his head. "What's up?"

But your thoughts have already gone off the rails entirely. "What are you talking about?"

"The new look?" Taako's hand pauses as he takes in your lost expression. "You know, it's just a good look, man, like--like a good fuckin' look."

You have to stop and lean against the counter to process. Everything you've been agonizing over for days--none of it was on Taako's radar at all. "You don't think I look... awful?"

Taako snorts. "Hell naw, where'd you get that from? You oughta be glad, at least one of us came out of that place not looking like shit."

Now your brain goes from 'off the rails' to 'fiery train crash'. He does realize he's still an elf, right? That he's an elf and you're a human, middle-aged and covered in scars? "You think _I_ look better than _you_?"

"Well, duh." Taako seems to be perplexed that you're asking at all. "That was, like... the point of the sacrifice?"

Every word he says is just making you more confused, and now distressed. "That's ridiculous, Taako, you look--looked--I mean, I had True Sight. You're still..."

"I'm not still anything, my dude. I'm a wash-up," Taako interrupts. Perfect nails sink into his palms as he makes fists at his sides. "In literally every way."

You're at a loss. He says it with such conviction, and all you can think about is how moments ago you were equally sure he thought the worst of you. "No, you're not. Taako... have you been thinking that this whole time?"

"What the fuck else would I be thinking, honestly? Like, legitimately." Taako inhales, then stops, presumably caught in the realization that he has come dangerously close to actually expressing an emotion. He huffs. "Why are we talking about this? This sucks. Let's talk about something else. Who do you think would win in a fight, Angus or Johann? Angus is a crafty little shit and he's really coming along with the magic, but Johann's exposure to different patterns of music--"

"You're not a wash-up, Taako."

Taako's face twists bitterly. He crosses his arms, curls in on himself like a sour wilting flower. "Yeah, no, that's great, yeah, sure. Who would think _that_? Star who lost his show, went on the run on charges of fucking murdering a town, now some shit wizard fetching secret McGuffins at massive personal cost with a face an elf mother would fucking spit at more than she basically already did. And oh yeah, let's not forget the part where all of that legacy is going to be mopped up _handily_ after all is said and done because of a demon deal with a fucking jellyfish."

You find yourself stunned in the face of his sincerity. Shit. You hadn't even thought of the Voidfish. You're just in it to save people, they'll still be there after you die and get erased, but who knows with Taako? Will anything he's ever worked for remain? You itch to put your hands on his shoulders or face and soothe the upset away, even though you know it's Taako and he wouldn't appreciate being touched right now. "Taako, I didn't mean to--"

"No, you know what? You want to do this, let's fucking do this." Taako thrusts his hand at you. "See this bad boy? Gave myself a pretty sick gash here, had to come with my tail between my fucking legs to Merle to patch it up. Guess what the hell _'cha boy_ fuckin' did?" He waves his unharmed hand in your face. "Punched his gods-damned mirror, is what!"

You surprise the both of you by letting out a completely reflexive laugh.

"What the fuck?" Taako shouts, and he starts flailing his limbs at you. "What the fuck in any plane of fucking existence, I swear I'll fucking maul you--"

You grab his wrists and hold him fast, trying to keep from laughing any more. "No, Taako, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, it's just--me too. Mirrors."

Taako stops whatever sort of volley he was aiming at you. "What--why--?" He cuts himself off in realization, lowers his arms halfway and peers at your face. "You really think you look that bad?"

"That was, like... the point of the sacrifice," you echo with an awkward shrug.

"Damn." Taako drops his arms entirely to contemplate for a moment. "Well, jeez, my man. It doesn't have to be. You don't need to--I mean, you really look great. No joke."

"Really? Are you sure?" you can't help but ask. As if Taako would just turn around and say he fucking punk'd you on this, Taako who, okay, yeah, would know what it's like more than anyone else short of the Director herself.

Taako nods earnestly. "Like I said, the greys? Mega sexy. Super in these days."

Just when you thought your brain was back on track. "You--I--sexy? Really?"

"Yeah, man. Get all the babes. Not that you want them." Taako waves his hand easily as if he hadn't just been practically trying to shove it down your throat. "Looks hella distinguished."

You look at him and can't stop yourself breaking into a big smile. If Taako himself doesn't think you look horrible, you can't be in that bad a shape. "Thanks, Taako. You're a good friend." You ruffle his hair, which makes him squawk in complaint. "And just so you know, I totally agree with what you said about still being head and shoulders above ninety percent of the population."

Taako shrugs that one off; it might not be something he's able to sit down and unpack just yet. Instead he says, "Come to think of it, I could always teach you to moisturize if you want. You wouldn't know it but some of that anti-aging cream shit you see ads for does actually help those wrinkles. I helped the Director pick out what brands to use, I can hook you up."

"Yeah. I'd like that." You can't stop beaming now. Gears start turning in your head. Maybe you could help Taako play with Disguise Person. Maybe after a while you could coax him out of the spell entirely.

Maybe, just maybe, you're not quite as alone as you thought.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my TAZ blog [link: [here](https://the-thb-tbh.tumblr.com/)!]


End file.
